Heartbreaker
by angel718
Summary: No one ever seems to realize that she didn't have a choice.


Author's Note: Okay, this is going to take some explaining, so please read this **before** you read the fic. This is playverse Outsiders, so yes, I know that in the book, it's not Soda's baby. But in this fic it is. Also, keep in mind that this is basically a character study of Sandy. I figured that since there's a lot of anti-Sandy feeling in this fandom, I'd show her perspective of her breakup with Soda. And when I say playverse, I don't just mean that it's Soda's baby--the dialogue is all from the show. So if any of it seems out of character, that's not my fault. Just saying. :) Annnd...The Outsiders (and the dialogue) aren't mine. Now that that's all said...enjoy!

I stand miserably in front of the worn oak door, listening to the unintelligible murmurs on the other side. I know it's Soda talking, and even though I can't hear very well, the anguish in his voice is evident. My eyes fill with hot, salty tears that spill over and sting my icy cheeks. I don't want to do this. I can't go in there. What kind of person breaks up with her boyfriend when his brother and one of his best friends are missing?

I know. The kind of person who doesn't have a choice.

The conversation stops abruptly, and I know that if I don't do this now, I never will. Drawing in a shuddering breath, I wipe my face and force myself to open the door. When I reach the main room, the floor creaks slightly, catching Soda and Darry's attention. "No news," I manage apologetically, wishing that I could tell them something useful. Soda shakes his head, yawning loudly into his hand. It's a small thing, but it sends another stab of guilt through me. He's clearly exhausted. I've never seen him look so…so helpless. "You both been up all night." All I want to do is hold on to him and tell him that everything is going to be okay, but I'm glued to the spot.

He nods, and then shrugs. "How'd you make out at home?"

Of course. He's so selfless. _Don't worry about me; are you okay? _If only I was worthy of him. "Not good." My voice sounds far away and weak. I look down at the ground, tracing the lines in the floorboards with my toe. "The worst."

"That bad?" He moves closer, and I force myself to look him in those warm, comforting eyes, hating myself for what I know I'm going to do.

"I said—the worst." Oh, God. The tears are already coming back, and I haven't even _gotten_ to the worst of it yet. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my exposed midriff, as though if he sees it, he'll know the real reason I have to leave; the reason that I can never tell him, because he's too much of a gentleman to let me go through this alone. I'm going to have to stretch the truth. With effort, I force myself to speak again. "We have to talk." _Alone, please_, I beg in my mind, my eyes flitting to Darry, who is still standing by the window, obliviously. Soda, noticing, turns his attention to his brother as well. In the silence, Darry turns to look at us, and then, eyes widening with understanding, starts to leave.

Soda laughs apprehensively. "I'm getting a little nervous," he informs me, rubbing the back of his neck. I can tell that he wants me to laugh, too, and tell him to stop being so ridiculous, that nothing's wrong. I wish I could.

Instead, all my hurt and distress come pouring out in my exclamation: "I can't live at home anymore! I have to get out—right now." Well, it's true. My only comfort in this whole situation is that I don't have to actually lie.

"C'n always stay here, Sandy," I hear Darry offering uncertainly from where he stands by the door. Mercifully, he leaves before I have to answer.

Soda looks confused. I can't really blame him. After all, this is incredibly sudden. "How can you get out—_right now_?"

I throw my hands up in the air, wracking my brain for something, anything that will show him that I have no choice. "How can I stay?" He knows that my parents and I have never gotten along. Maybe this will be enough. A quick glance at his face tells me otherwise, and I breathe deeply, preparing myself. "I've been up all night, too."

He moves closer and puts his hand on my shoulder, face clouded with sympathy. At his touch, I crumble a little, closing my eyes. For so long, he's been the only one I can trust, the one who loves me no matter what, and I'm about to ruin it. "You shoulda called," he berates me gently.

I can't look at him. I'll break down if I do. Eyes downcast, I summon every ounce of strength I have to back away. Against my will, I catch a glimpse of his bewildered, hurt face, and I seize his hand. My entire body is numb, my legs shaking, and I feel as though he is the only thing holding me up. "Sodapop—I'm going to Tallahassee, Florida. My grandmother lives there." Now, through some masochistic, uncontrollable impulse, I can't look away. He nods, still not sure why this is so upsetting to me. He hasn't understood that this won't be a short little visit. "I'm gonna live with my grandmother in Florida," I blurt out, all at once, my face crumpling as I watch the realization of what I'd just said sink in.

Soda's eyes widen, and he drops my hand, holding his own up in a halting gesture. The sudden lack of his presence makes me sway, and I have to take a few deep breaths to steady myself. "Hold on! You don't have to do that. You could stay here." The plea in his voice breaks my heart, and I open my mouth to object before he can get either one of our hopes up too high. I know myself, and if he finishes whatever he wants to say, it's going to make it a thousand times harder to walk away. But he cuts me off. "You heard Darry. You don't have to go to Florida." He says _Florida_ like it's a swear word, and I bury my head in my hands as a single tear slips from my eye.

"I can't stay here." Firm. Definite. Everything that I'm _not _feeling.

He misunderstands. "We could get married. We're gonna some day, so why not—"

Any other day, his words would have made me the happiest girl in the world. But right now, I'm terrified, miserable, and in this position _because _we're not married. Again, I curl my arms protectively around my abdomen as though it is already swollen, as though our one mistake is plain to see. It would be so easy to explain. To just blurt it out. I open my mouth, and the words actually almost come, because I know he'll never let me do this alone. Then, unbidden, my parents' furious faces pop into my mind, and what comes out instead is a soft, pleading, "We're sixteen."

"A couple weeks I'll be seventeen," he reminds me, obviously grasping for anything to make me stay.

I shake my head, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. "Big difference."

"No, Sandy. I'll be—I won't—" He's starting to lose it. I can tell, and I'm not used to that. It rips at my already aching heart, and I turn away so that I don't have to see his reaction to what I have to say next.

"I have to get away. I can't talk about it anymore." If only I could leave it here. Long distance relationships can work. And if I just came back here in about a year…but this thinking is dangerous. If I think like that, I'll never make it out. "And—I can't see you anymore."

There is silence. Dead, pained silence. It lasts so long that I begin to wonder if he's even still in the room, and I carefully turn around. When he sees my face, he finally demands, "What?"

"It's what I came to tell you." My voice cracks, and my eyes fill up again. As much as I love him, I just want him to let this go. He has to see how horrible this is for me, and I don't think I'll be able to handle it if he says anything. He opens his mouth, and I cover it in desperation. "It's hard enough, Sodapop," I remind him, biting my lip hard.

"But—"

"Don't make it worse. Please don't do that."

He breathes in deeply, shakes his head and then rubs his face hard, as though he's trying to make this whole scene vanish. He doesn't look up after he stops, and his shoulders are shaking. I start to move closer, to comfort him, choking back my own sobs. Seeing him like this is absolutely killing me, and I'm not sure how I'll ever forgive myself for leaving when he needs me most. At last, after an endless few seconds, he looks up. "Okay. Okay—for now. It's been a bad night. You have to back off for a while. Okay." He doesn't know. He doesn't get it. He must think I'm the most awful person in the world. I cover my mouth as a tiny sob escapes me. God, _if only I could just explain_. I would give anything to take away the pain that I'm causing him. "But we'll write. Keep in touch. Give it a little time. Work things out."

I can't respond to any of it. I just can't. "When you see Ponyboy and Johnny explain it to 'em." I break off, reaching up to touch his face for the last time. "I sure love you." It's more of a whimper than a whisper, and I'm not even sure he hears it.

"Sandy," he whispers, agonized, leaning closer for our final goodbye—

"Looks like another fight over at the lot," Darry calls out as he walks in. I pull away from Soda, startled, and squeeze his hand.

"Goodbye." At last, I hurry out, head bowed as I finally let loose the torrent of emotion that I've been trying so hard to hold back.

AN 2: Well? What do you think? You like? You hate? You on the fence? Do tell--but please don't flame. If enough people like it, I might write a full length Soda/Sandy. So please review! :)


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